Shuffle Rhapsody
by theimpalaismybaby
Summary: Song Shuffle. A series of unrelated oneshots of The Walking Dead. Daryl/Glenn.
1. All or Nothing

**I wanted to try a song shuffle idea, so here it is. The parings will be different and hopefully the genre's.  
**

**Song: All or Nothing- Theory of a Deadman**

**Pairing: Glenn/Daryl**

**Rated: T for mentions of suicide, Methamphetamines and curse words**

**Author Comment: Fictional background for Daryl made.**

He never knew why he did it. Joined up with Rick and the rest of the bumbling sons of bitches. They left Merle to die alone up on a roof in Atlanta. Left him to cauterize his own hand to survive. Or what Daryl thought his brother dying. Even if he may still be alive, it wasn't the same.

He didn't know why he sat here, night after night, traveling with them, looking for something, looking for some source of hope. But night after night, he found nothing. No lit up building, no city without Walkers raiding it. Not survivors and definitely not his brother. He was alone utterly alone.

More than once in the dead of the night as he watched the small crackle of the fire with Rick sitting across from him, he inwardly thought of all the lives he'd lives before this. As a child, they were poor, their parents hyped up on methamphetamine. Their father beat them, their mother whored herself around for another hit. The bully in school, beating kids up for money to walk to the corner and trade for some precious clarity in his life. Bartering his soul to the devil.

He's rouse himself from his thoughts, as he always did, before the nightmares came and thrashed over his mind. He knew time and time again, that his worse thoughts he kept locked up. Those nights that he sits silently in his truck, contemplating what he had left, why he was still traveling with them and why they mattered something to him. His bravado would always pipe up with the fact that he didn't want to be a Walker and only killing himself would achieve that. He wanted to fight as long as he could. Go down fighting is what his older brother always taught him in those rough times.

And at times, he believed his philosophy, don't let them get you, or just shoot every fucker in the head that you can. Then there were other times where he just couldn't live with it anymore. Couldn't live with everyone dead. Everyone, save for this little fucking gathering of useless fuckers. He wasn't breaking, he just needed a breather.

Then there were days when he would watch him in all his awkwardness, reverting to his old habits of craving the flesh, craving the dripping mess of another man's skin under his. The euphoria that could fill the hole left when his drugs were thrown away. Craving for just a touch from his plump lips, wondering what that skin tasted like. It would torment him at night when the question of surviving didn't, the incessant need to have what he couldn't drove him mad.

Now, he sat in his truck, touching the skin that he'd craved so long for. Breathing out a heated sigh, fogging the windows with their memories with their hopes. Glenn was finally his, panting under him dripping with sweat and screaming with need. His fingers tight against his back, his lips whispering the words he'd been dying to hear all his life. "It's only you and I. All or nothing." It's a question and a statement all at once.

"You've got all I need."


	2. Wake the Dead

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, or its characters in any way, shape or form.**

**Wake the Dead- The Used**

**Pairing: Glenn/Daryl**

**Rated: T for heavy kissing**

It all started with a kiss, a simple kiss to get him to sleep, to tell him that he could sleep in peace tonight, that no walkers would get him. That he would protect him. Then it all fell from there. Just a kiss and they fell from grace.

But this wasn't just a kiss, it was a breathtaking sigh. It was the heated look in those eyes that stared down at him.

At Daryl's touch, Glenn let out a soft moan that tumbled down his full lips. It made Daryl's skin tingle, made lust rush through his veins, made him dip his head to his neck to nibble at the porcelain skin.

He released a gasp as he was pressed roughly against the bed of the truck, his lips seized up in frenzy. Their bodies connected in every possible way. Every orifice was pushed up in a heated struggle of zippers and fabric.

Taking a moment of self indulgence, he glanced down, drinking in the vision of Glenn's pink tinted skin under the moonlight, his flushed face and his panting body, and his needing irises. Daryl grinned and licked his lips, his eyes never leaving that of Glenn's flushed body, his fingers trailing down the prickling skin. He pressed a searing; passionate kiss that kindles a fire in Glenn that he didn't even know existed.

Kissing Daryl felt right. It felt new. A new type of fire, a new type of gut wrenching, heat pounding, needing feeling. Magical, beautiful, hot.

Glenn's fingers slipped into Daryl's back pockets, dragging his pelvis closer, sinking deeper into the warmth that fell from him. The Asian moaned into his mouth, kissing ferociously, as if they would never see each other again. Daryl's hot tongue swept out, licking a line across Glenn's pouting bottom lip, before sucking it between his teeth, kneading it, calling forth panting cried of pleasure.

He felt as if his body was alive with fire licking at his every pore; the rush made him deepen the kiss, made his fingers dig deeper, made him want to release every moan that was building up from the skilful flicks of Daryl's tongue, every scorching kiss that he was giving him.

Pulling back reluctantly, Daryl released a low chuckling sigh. "Your screams are loud enough to wake the dead."

"Shut up, Daryl." A whisper of cloth and Daryl was the one under Glenn's unrelenting lips; smoldering and torturing.


	3. If I Ever Lost My Faith In You

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, or its characters in any way, shape or form.**

**If I Ever Lose My Faith In You- Sting**

**Pairing: Glenn/Daryl**

**Rated: T for religious belittling and racial slurs.**

He'd long ago lost his faith in the sciences, in rhythms and experiments when they couldn't find a way to rid him of his addiction when he was actually seeking help instead of reveling in the process of boiling under his skin, in his veins.

He'd long ago lost his faith in God and the church for his upbringing; the beatings, the useless words tosses around, the dangling hope and lastly the addictions. He wasn't brought up right, hell he was brought up across the tracks on the left side of the field, where the crack heads dwelled under the bridge. Their door had always been open to anyone that wanted to saunter in with drugs, get the boy hooked and sauntered right out with more customers.

Daryl wasn't one to say he forged his own path, or even followed one, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw something greater unfolding in front of him. The grand sketch of some higher power wanting him to go down the beaten path; instead he formed through the woods losing his sense of direction. Not that he ever really had one to begin with.

He lost his faith in everything when the civilization collapsed into itself with its ever increasing numbers. When everything went to hell when that first zombie was turned, creating the domino effect to take place, leaving little room for drug time and a lot less free time if you wanted to live. And he did. With everything in his being. He wasn't sure why, but somehow he knew he had to live for something, had to…

And now he knew why. Glenn. In all his beautiful length. He was chink, sure, but god, the way he flashed him that nervous smile, jittering under that light coat when cold weather rushed through. His dark brown eyes, that black hair he hides under his cap… It was all intoxicating and a form of Daryl's new resolve. Fight for him, live for him and protect him.

Pushing his thought past, Daryl looked over to where Glenn's head rest against his shoulder. His mouth twitching the slightest, Daryl kissed his head softly, pulling off the cap and whispering to him," If I ever lose my faith in you. There'd be nothing left for me to do, kid."


	4. Golden

**Song: Golden- Fall Out Boy**

**Pairing: Glenn/Daryl**

**Rated: T for small doses of Acid **

**A/C: AU where Glenn and Daryl meet before the apocalypse.**

_The radio is playing a sad little tune that aches like a bleeding heart through the truck stereo. There's a fever sweating out to be seen, a love aroma making from the back seat. It's not supposed to happen like this, but he just lets it. The night tells of its thoughts through the lonely barrel of a man's voice and one lonely acoustic guitar. It's thinking of heartbreak and love rolled into one fucked up package. _

_Heat escaping from their pores, fogging the windows of the out-dated vehicle, making the cries that they were making all the more in vain. Wobbling on unbroken wheels as the tires in their heads rotated and spat out grovel. Bodies in a mash up of tangled emotions and feeling had gone horribly wrong. Nothing was as it was supposed to be. Love was simple, never wrong. But all he could taste through this fumbling of clothes and whispers of the damned was the dry scratch of whiskey down his throat, the feeling of euphoria skating through his veins. The need isn't there. He just satisfied it. It had yet to crash into him._

_It started as a one way kiss through his eyes, met by his tongue in a serenade passionate vibrant colors. Then the sensations started with brilliant activity. It left him panting and speechless. But behind all the wondering, half lingered touches, somewhere in his deep subconscious that something is wrong, utterly wrong, this isn't it; this isn't how it should be. With hands like knives, he could cut through the condensation of something there, of some sort of lingering emotions that sustained him, but knew without a second thought he wouldn't be able to._

_Someone said history repeats itself, and he knew it to be true._

_Those eyes of brown warn him of God. With his will and his testaments. The lovers that never had time for him. _

_So he wanted to sleep with him, to rid him of the thoughts that had previously plagued his mind. With a little white square and a heavy fondle session, he knew his desire to drown in those golden eyes would be ignited and soon, he would let himself fall into that pool. Attack at his skin like an animal, ravaged and hungry; desolate. _

_He wanted to be pulled in, lead in. He wanted his hands inside of him, all over him, pressuring him down into the seat, rough up the pretty sleek skin. He wanted to drive his body into the small man like an animal, a sleep dangerous animal. He wanted to drive this little rabbit mad with need and want. He wanted it to happen mad. He wanted to be wanted… _

_Someone said that history repeats itself and he was doomed to fall for his same mistakes. He knew it to be true._

_Through trials and tribulations, they still groped for each other in the backseat of his truck, half heartedly. With everything leading to a vanishing point, a boiling point or a choking point, all actions were moot. He was running out of chances, sleep; hope. And these nights were getting longer. The drugs wearing thin and his patience along with them. Nights turned into episodes of pandemonium and sleepless encounters with others._ _More frequently, he was finding himself sleepless, searching for a lullaby. Searching for a way out of the whole he made himself. Searching for the heart he lost long ago. He never found it. Broken and damaged. He swallowed glass to rid his mouth of the taste, to keep the grit from leaving his teeth. _

_In a long lost battle of limbs, blood, broken noses and cut mouths, they couldn't punch themselves awake. They never tried to again. All he could do was stand at the edge and offer some sort of god awful apology, "Sorry 'bout the blood in your mouth." _

_After years of searching, history repeating itself, he realized sometimes, life in a sweet golden delusion had its perks. He never could get the boy to kill him._


	5. Sacrifice

**I do not own the Walking Dead in any shape, or form. Sorry for the long wait. School has been kicking my ass. :/ I hope you like this one. It's longer and a lot more angst. D:**

**Song: Sacrifice- Theory of a Deadman**

**Pairing: Glenn/Daryl**

Rated: M for character death, language and denial.

"Daryl-" It came again, that incessant noise of some piss poor bastard barking up the wrong damn tree again. It was really starting to aggravate him, the thought that everyone was out to talk to him about his feelings, make him feel better. The thought of everyone figuring him out, thinking that in a moments span if they just kept their thumb on him, he wouldn't snap, he wouldn't try to kill himself. Well, there would be no sacrifice tonight, because he'll never break down.

Snorting angrily to himself, he didn't stop in his tracks, instead continued to walk to where he'd shot the deer. Stalking down to the tree which is had chose to rest its last precious seconds again, Daryl grumbled to himself as someone kept following him. Grasping the arrow through its head, he gave it a hearty yank. With a sickening cracking wet sound, the arrow gave way and Daryl was strapping it back into his bag before the other could open their mouth even the smallest bit. Not even a glance back, Daryl grabbed the young buck and hoisted it's head over his shoulders and soon the front legs followed.

Half dragging, half carrying it to camp, he was vaguely aware Rick was still following him and talking. Too bad Rick didn't know that every word escaped him as he threw the deer in front of the women, without a word before walking off to the pond. With every step he took, Rick was there. Seconds passed in silence, or what seemed like silence since Daryl was trying his best to ignore every heart-felt sodden shit spewing from Rick's mouth. Sentences leaked past his front and snapped the last straw.

"Look, jackass, I'm fine. I don't five a flying fuck. So why don't you saddle up on your throne and go whine and have touchy feeling time with the girls." Caustic anger flared as Daryl was close to grabbing his bow again.

A tick of his jaw and Rick sighed softly, shaking his head. "Everyone is taking this hard, Daryl. We're still a team, you know. We're still… Just trying to survive." His words were hard an awkward, almost as if he didn't know how to deal with Daryl, which would have made him laugh had he not been so angry at being coddled all of the time.

"So, what then? You think I'm not? You think just because one thing happened, I'm going to give up looking for my brother, give up on life and just end it right here? You fucking shithead, you really aggravate me. I didn't get this far just to let some fucking zombie gnaw on my brain and to have some, Holier-Than-Thou Sheriff telling me what the hell I should do!" At this point, he couldn't stop it. It flowed freely, open in the air. All the confusion and anger over this whole situation, this whole apocalypse; everything just boiled over when it happened.

It was a breakdown. Three seconds it took him to raise his arm. Two seconds it took him to ball his fist and raise it. One second it took him to punch Rick right in the mouth, in the middle of him sprouting some more bull shit about needing to deal with his feelings. Daryl didn't have any feelings to deal with. Simple as that. It happened, there was nothing he could do, and he got over it. Everything had settled back over the dust.

"I'm fine. Just shut the fuck up and quit following me." Daryl hissed and glared deeply at Rick who looked shell shocked, his eyes wide with anger and surprise. Spitting a mouthful of blood out, he took the hint and walked off, but not before leaving with some parting words.

"I hope for all of us, you're really fine. We can't survive without you."

He couldn't remember what happened after that, just blind fury that choked him and caused him to hiss deep in thought. He just remembered not really waking up, but being alert at sundown, six hours gone without a thing to remember them by. His body felt heavy and groggy, his muscles sore, his knuckles bleeding. His eyes slowly gazed over the bleeding orifices and frowned. He wasn't concerned that a zombie came, but he was curious.

Sighing softly, he roused himself from the bank and stood with little difficulty in his joints, their chorusing in refusal to get up. His eyes blurred briefly from staring into space. Feelings escaped him as he mutely scrubbed at his stubbly face. The water rushed at a fast pace as Daryl passed the remainder of the time scrubbing away dirt from his knuckles and his body.

The walk back to camp was filled with silence of the forest lying down to sleep, but Daryl's mind was ahead of him. Darkness seemed to creep inside of him, grasping hold of his brain before he could stop it, letting open the flood gates for the thoughts to rush around and wreak havoc inside of his head. Gripping his nightmares where he stored them and dragging them, kicking and screaming to the forefront of his thought. Before he could stop himself, he crippled to the thoughts raging inside of his head.

_A laugh pierced his thoughts; it was a soft, trailing laugh full of delicate lips red from kisses. It was his laugh and it made him grin, kissing the tan skin of his neck, earning more laughter and slight twitching of his body. It was one of those moments that put everything in perspective for him. Everything up until that moment seemed so small compared to this; he seemed so lost compared to this moment, this feeling of having Glenn in his arms as he did now. _

_He wasn't one to say he loved someone, wasn't one to settle down, just a quick bang here and there, but something about the way Glenn's eyes held him and the way his fingers gripped at his neck, the way his cheeks grew red with heat. These were all things that attracted him. He wasn't sure how to deal with it, how to speak it aloud, how to feel it…_

_Glenn did all the work though. He read Daryl's mind, knew his feelings, knew his urges and felt the things he felt. It was almost an effortless relationship. They knew what the other one wanted at the right time, knew why the other one was sullen. It was almost perfect. Almost. It lacked those three words because Daryl couldn't bring himself to say them._

"Oh god," Daryl panted, his eyes strained and shifting to the trees, to the water, to his feet. Everywhere. He couldn't keep them still. His stomach churned and burned with the thought of what happened. The smell of the crystal clear water made his head spin as images created a scene behind his eyes; a heart wrenching one.

He couldn't breathe, the rattle in his chest and the slow, deep burn of his heart prevented the breaths to escape from his lungs into the air. Hanging over the lake, Daryl coughed, willing the air to leave his lungs and enter again, willing his heart to stop beating and willing for things to be back to the way they used to be. Breath finally found its way to his lungs and with that breath, it brought on the first stings of gags.

The water agitated his eyes and he pressed the heels of his hands against them, pressuring them into stop seeing the images. His stomach contracted and out came everything he'd eaten that day, and even last night. Acid, bits of food and his heart is what he puked up while the images taunted him.

_Everything happened so fast. It was a blur. The ten was pried into; the sound of fabric woke Daryl up, catapulting him from the back of his truck. A quick survey of the camp site showed walkers. Launching into action, Daryl took his cross bow and swung at the zombies limping towards him. The first one splintered right through the eye and through the neck. Throwing his body back, he got his weapon back, kicked another in the face and looked for Glenn._

_The only thing he could remember about that night is his desperation in the darkness and the fumbling over shit littered on the ground. He remembered the blood and the groaning, hungry moans._

_He'd gotten through three of them before he heard the crack of gunfire and saw Glenn shaking uncontrollably with the gun limp in his hands. He had blood smeared on the side of his face, leaking from his neck. All the blood dribbling down the front of his flannel and that dumbfounded look on his face._

"_GLENN!" Daryl could hear explode from his mouth as he quickly closed the distance between them, swinging his bow at another walker, watching it thump to the ground. He arrived breathless as he grasped Glenn's face, his dirty thumb stroking his cheek."Glenn, Glenn. Come on. Oi, chink. Stay with me. Stay with me." His pleads grew more desperate as the seconds raged on and Glenn's eyes lazed around, unable to focus on anything._

_Feeling the pressure of the situation, Daryl smacked his cheek, trying to call to him. "c'mon chink! Stay with me. You can't fucking die now, you pansy." His teeth gritted against the emotions and he ripped his shirt off, balling it up to Glenn's neck. One of the nameless women passed by and he grabbed her by the wrist, glaring into her eyes. "Keep the shirt pressed on."_

_With that, he stood up to face the Walkers, looking for the one who still had a bit of his Asian dangling from his jagged, decaying teeth._ He remembered. He remembered everything. How when he finally got rid of them with Rick's help, how Glenn was already gone, starting the transformation. "_I can't-" Her protests were cut short by a mouth falling down upon her eye. With a sickening crunch, her face gave way to strong teeth and meat was pried from the once beautiful face. The walker sat where Glenn was, in his clothes, wearing his hat and chewing on face. Swallowing his pride, Daryl kicked the bitch aside hard enough to end her life and shot her in the head._ "_Fucking bitch, I told you to watch him!" Nothing could stop the emotion in his voice from leading over. He turned to Rick who gave him a sympathetic look. Gritting his teeth in anger, Daryl grabbed Glenn and hoisted him up in the air, careful of his teeth and stared into the dead eyes._ _He couldn't say it. Even when it wasn't Glenn anymore so instead he just shot him in the face. Right through the brain and watched as Glenn fell over._

He'd done it. Killed him that easily. Buried him. But he didn't mourn. There would be no sacrifice. These stupid fucks needed him. He wiped his mouth and spit into the water, nursing his pounding head and found his way back to the campsite. As he walked past the line of trees, he stopped at Glenn's grave and squatted, just staring at the freshly packed earth, not knowing what to say and cursing himself he hadn't said it all along. "I love you. And there will be no more sacrifices."


End file.
